


Starstruck

by spraycansoul



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraycansoul/pseuds/spraycansoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's the thing: Simone Bittle-Zimmermann grew up around hockey legends. She's used to meeting famous people, and despite the fact that her granddad is Bad Bob Zimmermann, and even though her <i>papa</i> is Jack "Best Ass in the NHL" Zimmermann, and especially considering <i>Wayne freaking Gretzky</i> held her when she was three and there are pictures all over the internet to prove it, it is very telling that right now, she is rendered speechless.</p><p>Out on the porch, Kent Parson breaks into a toothy grin. “Happy birthday, Simone!” he says cheerily to the little girl, who has frozen in her spot. </p><p>OR: the one where Jack and Bitty's kid meets Parse for the first time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starstruck

**Author's Note:**

> so at like 11 pm last night i was like i need to write a kid fic. like i just need to. so i came up with [this headcanon](http://it-bitty.tumblr.com/post/148238996127/bitty-and-jacks-daughter-is-a-hockey-fiend) that ended up becoming a full-fledged fic because i had a lot of feelings.
> 
> disclaimer: i don't speak french so please let me know if anything's off!  
> edit: HUUUGE THANK YOU TO @[Biscuit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Biscuit/pseuds/Biscuit) for helping me out with the french here!!

Bitty and Jack’s daughter, Simone, is a hockey fiend. Literally no one is surprised.

She grew up around the sport—frankly, it was inevitable that she would come to love it. They'd taken her to one of Jack's home games as soon as they'd established that her tiny ears could handle the noise level, and when she didn't have school, she never missed a game. It also probably didn't help that Granddad Bob Zimmermann gave her a pair of skates for Christmas when she was two years old and could barely even walk.

Bitty had actually hoped she'd take more interest in figure skating, and while she did like it, she didn't appreciate the technicalities of it. She liked the music, she liked the dancing, but she didn't really get along with any of the other (admittedly prissy) little girls she trained with, and sometimes, her coach was a little harsh. She also very much preferred warm, bulky armor and a sticky helmet over a cold and itchy costume any day. 

While Bitty could only truly be relieved that his daughter had still chosen a sport on the ice, especially the sport that introduced him to his husband, Jack, on the other hand, had been absolutely terrified. He knew well and good the implications of hockey—the physicality, the possibility of injuries, the intense pressure he'd faced as the son of a superstar, and even the politics—and, really, he would have very much preferred Sim to stick with the toe picks if it meant protecting her from getting hurt. He wasn't about to step in the way of his daughter's dreams, though, especially because she seems to really have the talent for it. After all, this was—is—his game, too, and he sees himself in her, a little bit. 

Okay, maybe more than a little bit, because she has his high cheekbones and baby blues, but other than that and the hockey, she really is her daddy's daughter. She coincidentally got the blonde hair and freckles from her biological mother, a lovely young girl who had agreed to become their surrogate, so it still looks like she could be Bitty's, in a way. She's warm and outgoing—rarely ever shy, can talk up a storm to anyone who would listen. She's her daddy's favorite sous-chef, and her papa's number one fan. She adores Beyoncé but kind of worships Ariana Grande, and wrinkles her nose at her papa's “old-people music.” 

If he's really being honest with himself, Jack knows he really wouldn't have it any other way.

 

Growing up with a papa who is a Stanley Cup-winning NHL superstar and a daddy who is the most charming Southern baker in at least a thousand-mile radius has its perks, especially when you're as big of a hockey fan as Simone Bittle-Zimmermann. 

So far, being Simone Bittle-Zimmermann means going to sleep at night with a stuffed shark from your Uncle Chowie and Auntie Cait, along with Señor Bun and Manchie. It means that you could ride your papa's teammates shoulders whenever you visited practice (though Uncle Tater is your favorite, because he HUGE-MONGOUS!), that sometimes when Uncle Ty and Uncle Jamie and Uncle Jordie were in town, you could go get ice cream, or play Shinny with Uncle Sid when the lake froze over, or go get pizza with your dads and Uncle Pat when you visited Chicago. It means participating in Hockey Shiz (PG version) with Uncle Holtzy and Ransy sometimes, and that you've high-fived Mario Lemieux and Steve Yzerman and Patrick Roy, and you’ve basically had dinner with pretty much every other significant NHL player alive.

And it means that for your seventh birthday, your parents threw a huge party in your backyard, and all your favorites arrived.

 

Jack pads into their kitchen the morning of Simone's seventh birthday to find Bitty (surprise, surprise) already knee-deep in pies and his morning Beyoncé. He snakes his arms around his waist as he works on a pie lattice, locking his fingers and resting them on Bitty's abdomen. Jack pulls him in to nuzzle into his neck and breathe him in.

“G’morning,” he mumbles into his skin, planting a kiss just where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Mmm, morning, baby,” Bitty hums. He cranes his neck the slightest bit to catch Jack's lips in a real kiss, slow and sweet. 

Jack pulls away after a moment, a lazy grin on his lips. “You need help?” he asks him, already knowing the answer. 

“Jack, we both know you got out of bed for a run,” Bitty replies fondly.

“Technically, I got out of bed for you,” Jack deadpans.

Bitty rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. “Go now! If you don't leave, you're gonna miss your daughter—” 

“Miss his daughter what?” A very sleepy-looking Simone steps into the light of the kitchen, still rubbing at her eyes. Her shoulder-length hair is sticking up in all different directions, and she's dragging Señor Bun in one hand. Jack can't help but smile at his daughter, who's wearing a mismatched Zimmermann Habs shirsey with her pink unicorn-print pajamas and shark-print socks. 

Bitty and Jack share a meaningful glance, and at the exact same moment, they lunge at their daughter, immediately catching her in a hug and lifting her off her little feet. Simone shrieks and giggles as her dads smother with kisses.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Bittle says, once they've finally put her down. 

“Happy birthday, bub,” Jack echoes, smiling down at her.

Simone's grin is infectious. “Thanks, daddy, papa!” She throws her little arms around both of their waists, as far as they can reach. “Je t’aime!”

“"On t'aime aussi, ma chérie",” Jack replies, fingers carding through her hair to untangle it. “Okay, since I can't possibly miss her waking up now,” he looks pointedly at Bitty, who rolls his eyes, “I'm going to go on that run now.” He leans down, kissing Bitty briefly and squeezing Simone affectionately one last time, whispering another happy birthday in her ear just in case she forgot, and then he's out the door. 

Once Jack has left, Bitty springs back into action. “Why're you up so early?” he asks his daughter, glancing at the wall clock. It's barely 6 am. 

Simone shrugs. “I got excited! I get to see Grandbad and Mamie and MeeMaw and PawPaw and Uncle Shitty and Auntie Lardy and Gavin! And also Uncle Ransy and Holtzy and Tater and—” 

“Whoa there, honey. Don't forget to breathe,” Bitty teases, chuckling. His mother used to say the same thing to him when he got excited. “Okay, well, in the meantime, d'you wanna help me with this?”

“Sure!” Simone perks up, and Bitty hands her a cookie cutter as she steps onto a stool beside her daddy. She cuts out little flowers for the pie crust as Bitty finishes up the lattice. 'Irreplaceable' comes up on the speakers and they both hum in approval.

“To the left, to the left,” they sing along with Beyoncé, nodding their heads along to the beat. 

“Hey, d'you know what record this song is from?” Bitty asks Simone, who's wiggling around so much, her flowers are coming out funny.

“Um…” Simone tries to wrack her brain, but comes up with nothing. “Nope,” she announces, popping the p.

“It's called B'day,” Bitty tells her, winking. 

Simone's eyes light up at the brand new information. “B'day on my b-day!” she says excitedly, giggling.

Bitty doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but this is his life now: an adorable daughter who shares his love of pies and Beyoncé, a loving and unfairly handsome husband, living a beautiful house with a beautiful kitchen. He can't help but think, _This moment here. This is what's irreplaceable._

 

Four hours, a shower for each of them, and seventeen pies later, the doorbell rings. 

“I'll get it!” Simone shouts from beside Jack on the sofa, bolting to answer the door. 

When she opens it, she finds a grinning Bad Bob, barely visible behind a pile of presents. Alicia is walking up the driveway with one last wrapped box as well.

“Grandbad!” Simone exclaims, throwing her arms around Bob's legs. He chuckles at the nickname (something Simone herself had coined when she found out about her grand père's hockey name), patting her head fondly as he balances the rest of the presents in one hand.

“Happy birthday, kiddo!” Bob greets her, and Simon smiles up at him, expressing her thanks in Québécois.

“Happy birthday, ma grande,” Alicia says, catching her just as she jumps into her arms. 

“Mamie! We made your favorite, blueberry pie!” Simone exclaims as Alicia carries her in and Bob sets down the presents on a table. 

Jack greets them in the foyer with a kiss on the cheek each. “Good morning, maman, papa,” he says, smiling. “Get in okay?”

Bob claps him on the shoulder, and Alicia squeezes him in a hug. “Our flight was delayed a bit, but everything other than that was good,” Alicia says, and Bob nods. 

“Where's Eric?” Bob asks Jack, and right on cue, Simone returns, dragging Bitty along with one hand. 

“Hey y'all!” Bitty greets them both with a hug. He's about to offer them quiche and coffee when the doorbell rings a second time. 

“I'll get it!” Simone yells again, even though they're all within less than a meter away from each other. 

Simone pulls the door open to reveal Suzanne and Coach, both carrying presents with huge grins on the faces. 

Simone opens the door for everyone who arrives, clearly loving the attention. After Bitty's parents come Ransom and Holster, bearing a tightly-wrapped present that is so obviously a new hockey stick, and then Shitty, Lardo, and their son Gavin, who is around a year and a half older than Simone and on whom she may or may not have a little crush. (“Absolutely not, daddy! Boys are icky!”) Chowder and Caitlyn show up with their new baby boy, Pat, soon after, and Simone gets to hold him for a minute, cooing at the sleeping bundle in her arms. All of her favorite people turn up, one by one, and soon, the Bittle-Zimmermann household is full of classmates from elementary and hockey giants and family members and close friends from Samwell. 

By lunch time, the party is in full swing, Bittle's food disappearing and then reappearing in flashes and Ariana Grande pumping through the speakers. Simone had changed into a brand new dress that her daddy had bought her just for the occasion, a very pink, very tulle little number she chose herself that she matched with rainbow leggings and white sneakers. As far as Simone is concerned, she's happy with the attendance—everyone she's expecting has arrived, including her best friend Allie and her parents, who happen to be their next door neighbors. 

But at around 1:30 that afternoon, the doorbell rings again, and Simone looks a little confused. She's playing dodgeball with Allie and Gavin and her other classmates, but she runs to Jack, who is standing with Tater and Snowy, as soon as she hears it. “Should I get that, papa?” she asks, looking genuinely concerned. 

Jack smiles knowingly at Tater—they know who's at the door. “I think you're gonna want to, bub,” he says. “But I'll come with you, if you like.”

“Yes, please, papa,” she says, tugging him over to the front door. 

When she opens it, her mouth forms a little o in shock. Jack just smiles down at his daughter's reaction. 

Here's the thing: Simone Bittle-Zimmermann grew up around hockey legends. She's used to meeting famous people, and despite the fact that her granddad is Bad Bob Zimmermann, and even though her _papa_ is Jack "Best Ass in the NHL" Zimmermann, and ESPECIALLY considering _Wayne freaking Gretzky_ held her when she was three and there are pictures all over the internet to prove it, it is very telling that right now, she is rendered speechless.

Out on the porch, Kent Parson breaks into a toothy grin. “Happy birthday, Simone!” he says cheerily to the little girl, who has frozen in her spot. 

Jack opens the door wider to let him in. “I think she's a little starstruck, Kenny,” he jokes, though he's a little concerned. (Also, a little jealous. But he can't show that.) He puts a fist out for him to bump instead.

Kent complies cooly. “I tend to have that effect on people,” he shrugs faux-innocently. 

“You-you're Kent Parson,” Simone finally squeaks. Her eyes are the size of Bitty's famous mini-pies. 

Kent chuckles. “And you're Simmy Zimms, hockey prodigy!” he says, kneeling down to her height. “Sorry I never got to meet you until now, but I got this for you.” Kent hands her a box covered in red wrapping paper. 

Simone manages to accept it, letting out a little giggle. “Merci beaucoup,” she says shyly. 

Kent stands up to full height, handing Jack a small box that suspiciously is the same size and shape as an iPhone's. Or maybe just an iPod, if he's lucky. Jack's eyes narrow. “Kenny, if this is—”

“I know Bitty would never approve. That's why I'm giving it to you,” he winks conspiringly. “C’mon, Zimms. _Some_ one’s got to give it to her at some point, and I know you won't."

Jack rolls his eyes, but accepts it anyway, knowing that arguing with Kent would be pointless. “Thank you,” he says. “For coming.”

“My pleasure!” Kent says, loud enough for Simone to hear. She's been watching their quiet exchange very seriously. “I really wanted to finally meet this little girl,” he says, sending another wink in Simone's direction this time. 

Simone disappears in a fit of giggles. “ Can I... can I hug you?” she asks shyly. 

“'Course you can,” Bitty says, emerging from the kitchen, holding a towel. “Hey, Parse.”

“'Ey, Bitty!” Kent greets him with a one-armed hug before scooping the little girl up into his arms and settling her on his hip. She’s a little heavier than he anticipates, but he manages it. Simone giggles hysterically as the four of them make their way to the kitchen. “It smells great in here,” Kent observes. 

“How very dare you,” Bitty gasps, clutching his chest. “Were you expecting any less?”

Kent shakes head seriously. “No, sir. Just stating facts.”

Bitty grins, looking satisfied. “Well, okay then. Hey Simmy, you wanna introduce Uncle Kenny to Gavin and Allie?” he prompts, and Simone's face lights up. 

“Yeah!” she shouts enthusiastically, jumping down and grabbing Kent's hand to lead him through the living room and out to the backyard. 

Jack and Bitty watch the pair leave together. “I've never seen that little girl starstruck,” Jack observes, and Bitty turns to look at him questioningly. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she was literally rendered speechless when she got the door.” Jack's brows were furrowed, and his mouth formed a little pout. “Your little girl, speechless. The first thing she said was, 'You're Kent Parson.' She looked at him like he hung the moon,” he recounts bitterly, pulling Bitty into his arms. 

Bitty pushes his chest back to look at him and raises his eyebrows. “Jack Zimmermann, you're not _jealous_ , are you?”

“Just a little offended,” Jack mumbles into Bitty's hair. 

Bitty laughs at his husband's ridiculousness before he spots the box in Jack's hand. “And what is that?” He raises a suspicious eyebrow. 

“Could be an iPhone or an iPod,” Jack sighs as he pulls away to show him. “Kent meant for me to hide it from you. D'you think we should—”

Bitty sighs deeply as well. “Later,” he decides. There's a reason they limit her use of handheld technology to two hours a day on Bitty's iPad, and Bitty makes sure that Jack (along with Bob and Alicia, and Tater, Chowder, Snowy, et al) doesn't spoil her rotten with expensive things she doesn't really need. She's seven years old; she doesn't need an iPhone... but it might be convenient for Bitty to be able to free up the space on his iPad from all the Toca Boca apps to ever exist. 

Jack just nods. “I'll bring this up to our room. You need anything?”

“No,” Bitty smiles. “But I think I'll go out there and keep an eye on those two, though. Who knows what else Kent has up his sleeves...”

 

Kent Parson is not usually good with kids. 

He finds them annoying, unnecessarily loud, and frankly, he doesn't really have the patience to deal with them. 

But that was before he met Simone Bittle-Zimmermann, who is just about the sweetest little girl on the planet. She has Kent wrapped around her finger, enthusiastically talking his ear off and filling him in on the better part of the last seven years of her life. He also meets Allie McKenna, Simone's best friend, who devours Bitty's cookies three at a time and likes to talk with her mouth full, but is every bit as outgoing as Simone, and Gavin Knight, who has luckily been raised well enough to only politely gape in awe at him and smile shyly at Simone through his long hair as they play Hungry Hippo. They spend the entire afternoon together, playing with Gavin and Allie and all the other kids, Kent telling her ridiculous stories of her papa when they were in Juniors, and Simone dragging him around and introducing him to everyone, despite the fact that he’s already met most of them anyway. 

(It’s especially ridiculous when they get to Tater. “...And this is Uncle Tater, who is, like, taller than the Empire State Building,” Simone tells Kent solemnly, and he nods, playing along.

“Hey, baby,” Kent says to Tater, who leans down to kiss his cheek. Simone looks so confused, and Kent laughs so hard at her adorable reaction, but Tater feels sorry for her and lets her in on the joke.

“Your Uncle Kenny is my boyfriend,” Tater explains to Simone, who is a mix of betrayed and absolutely ecstatic. “I wait for him all day today, but you hog him. Is my turn now!” He scoops Kent up and throws him over his shoulder, walking away. “Sorry, Sim-sim!” Simone laughs hysterically at Kent’s helpless expression, running after Tater to try and catch them, and soon enough the whole party is watching in amusement.)

Later, as Kent finally gets to devour a heaping plate of food, courtesy of Bitty, (who must have noticed that the birthday girl refused to leave his side and he hasn’t gotten the chance to eat since he arrived), Simone politely asks her papa if she can open the present that Kent gave her when he first came in. Once she gets the okay from her papa, and then later from her daddy, she resumes her cross-legged position across Kent on the grass as she rips the present open.

A small gasp escapes her lips when she catches sight of the Aces home jersey with the number 90 on the back and sleeves. She holds it up in front of her, staring in awe when she discovers a little scribble on the bottom left of the front. 

_To my favorite niece,_ it reads. _Love, Uncle Kenny :)_

Simone hugs it close to her chest, and a shit-eating grin appears on Kent’s face. 

Across the yard, Bitty taps Jack’s bicep and cocks his head to where Kent and Simone sit. Jack laughs and Bitty rolls his eyes. Of course, Kent Parson is the kind of guy to give people signed memorabilia. It’s a little arrogant, but also very endearing. 

Simone tackles Kent in a huge hug. “Thanks, Uncle Kenny!” she practically shouts in his ear, before bolting off to show her dads her new jersey, Kent following closely at her tail. She wears it on top of her tutu-dress straightaway, despite Bitty’s frantic explanation that it was probably meant to be framed and put on display, and that if it gets dirty and they have to wash it, the dedication will come off, but Kent reassures him that he’d be happy to sign it again if it ever faded.

Simone grins triumphantly up at her daddy, who sighs in defeat. She doesn’t take it off for the rest of the day.

 

Just as she opened the door for everyone who arrived, Simone shows all of her guests out as they leave later that evening. She gives them each hugs on their way out, never forgetting to say thank you, and waving goodbye when they drive past in their cars. (She even gets a kiss on the cheek from Gavin, which causes the both of them to blush furiously afterwards. It’s all Bitty and Shitty can do not to squeal out loud. Lardo and Jack silently share knowing looks.) 

In a flash, the Bittle-Zimmermanns are left with only Kent and Tater—basically because Simone is clinging to Kent’s leg like a lifeline and won’t stop crying.

“Please don’t go,” Simone sobs against Kent’s thigh, her tears leaving dots on his jeans. “I’ll miss you!” 

“Come, Sim-sim,” Tater coos, coaxing her off of his poor boyfriend. “We go now. We see you tomorrow!”

Bitty perks up, finding an out for them. “Yeah, you guys can make it to her novice game tomorrow, right?” he winks at Kent, who quickly gets the message. Simone is too busy pressing her face against Kent’s leg to notice.

“You bet we’ll be there!” Kent assures him, patting Simone’s leg so she pays attention. “Right, Alexei?”

“Right,” Tater replies automatically.

Jack bends down to her daughter’s height. “Allez, lâche sa jambe, ma chérie. Tu les verras demain,” he whispers in her ear, and she sniffles in response.

“C'est promis, juré?” Simone says skeptically.

“Promis, juré,” Kent swears. Simone sniffs again before looking up at him, nodding. 

“Okay, papa.” She slowly detaches herself from and reaches for Jack, who offers her his hand.

“Okay,” Kent repeats. He bends down on one knee to level himself with her, reaching out for a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Simmy Zimms,” he whispers in her ear, and she lets out a little giggle.

“See you tomorrow, Uncle Kenny. Thank you for the jersey,” she tells him sweetly, patting his cheek.

Bitty scoffs. “That she will probably never take off, thank you very much.” He looks pointedly at Kent, who just laughs.

“Bye-bye, Sim-sim!” Tater says, pressing a kiss to her hair and taking Kent’s hand. “Score goal for us tomorrow!”

That snaps Simone back to her usual self. “You bet, Uncle Tater!” she promises, leading them out onto the porch. Jack and Bitty follow them out.

“Thanks for inviting me, guys,” Kent says to them. 

“Thanks for coming! You’re welcome here any time,” Bitty reminds him. “It looks like your niece would love to have you around more.”

“Duly noted.” Kent nods, smiling. “See you guys tomorrow.”

“You know, you don’t really have to—”

Kent cuts him off with a grin. “We’ll be there.”

 

Bitty and Jack’s daughter, Simone, is a hockey prodigy. Literally no one is surprised.

She scores two goals during the game the next day, with her parents, grandparents, and Uncles Tater and Kenny watching. Jack and Bitty are so happy, they decide to give her the iPod that Kent gave as his second birthday present. The first picture they take with it is of all of them crammed into the frame by the benches, Simone sitting proudly on top of Tater’s shoulders.

Kent is so ridiculously proud.

**Author's Note:**

> translations:
> 
> je t'aime - i love you  
> on t'aime aussi, ma chérie - we love you too, my dear  
> merci beaucoup - thank you very much  
> allez, lâche sa jambe, ma chérie. tu les verras demain - come on, let go of his leg, darling. you'll see them tomorrow  
> c'est promis, juré? - promise?  
> promis, juré - yep, i promise
> 
> also i doodled simone. bc im trash lmao
> 
>  


End file.
